Except, she thought as she wrestled her way painfully into a clean T-shirt, he seemed to like kissing me. He’d seemed equally affected by the sensual kiss. She hadn’t missed the impressive bulge in his shorts or the heated look in his eyes. Running her fingers through her hair, she caught a hint of his cologne and brought her hand to her nose to breathe in the spicy scent that would now forever remind her of him.

“Stop it,” she hissed to her haggard reflection. “The last time you got carried away by a man’s empty promises, you ended up a single mother. Don’t be a fool again. He’ll take what he can get from you and hit the road, just like they all do. Nothing about him is different or special.”

Even as she said the words, however, she knew they weren’t entirely true. He had already proven he was different by insisting on helping her as she recovered. As for special? She’d have to wait and see, but she would not—could not—allow herself to expect anything from him.

She refused to ever again risk her heart for a man, especially one who had the power to crush her while moving on with his own life as if she’d never existed.

Never again.

Hours later, Mac carried Maddie and the wriggling Thomas back up to their apartment. Despite being peed and puked on, Mac had had done an admirable job—with her verbal assistance—of taking care of four babies ranging from nine to twelve months old. To say he’d never changed a diaper before, he’d caught on fast, and Thomas had taken an instant shine to him.

Maddie held Thomas with her good arm while Mac navigated the stairs and play-bit the fingers Thomas put in his mouth. Mac had barely made eye contact with her all afternoon. Was it because of the kiss or something else? Had he heard what people said about her?

Her stomach ached and her palms grew damp. How she longed to be just a regular girl with nothing that made her different, without the suitcase full of troubles she dragged behind her. Sighing, she wished she could somehow lose the suitcase.

“Why the sigh?” Mac asked as he lowered her and Thomas to the sofa.

She ventured a glance up at him to find him watching her.

“Does something hurt?”

My heart. My stomach. My knee. “No.”

He scooped up Thomas as if he’d been doing it all the boy’s life. “What comes first? Dinner or bath?”

“I can take it from here. Why don’t you go visit your parents?”

“Are you going to keep this up all night?”

“Just until you get the hint that I don’t want you here.”

“You don’t? I’m shocked and hurt.”

“Shut up.”

He shielded Thomas. “Don’t talk that way in front of the child.”

The look she sent him could’ve cut glass.

“I’ll repeat the question: what comes first, dinner or bath?”